Could you destroy me?
by JuliaPenn
Summary: WHY HAS NO ONE WRITTEN A LEGIT LUCE BRUCEKI? FIC YET? It's totally canon. Anyway, somewhere in the midst of the movie. Bruce needs the power Loki has. Loki needs to understand how to manipulate this mind. Angst, luff, some kind of plot...might get to M.


**DISCLAIMER: Yes, I sadly own none of them. :c**_  
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_I am not my anger. I am not my anger. I am not my anger._

Maybe if he said it enough times it would actually be true. Taking a deep breath, he turned to Stark. "I would appreciate if you didn't talk about that," he smiled, trying to pass it off as only an uncomfortable joke.

"Hey, I think I got to him," Tony exclaimed, peering at Bruce's eyes. "Maybe I should –"

"Give it a rest, Tony," Natasha snapped from her seat on the lab table. "I'm sick of the degrading jokes."

"It was pretty funny," Bruce chuckled, shaking his head. He swept the documents he'd been working on into a cupboard. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to head to bed."

"Good night!" Stark called as he left the lab. "Hey, do you dream about –"

"Shut it!" Natasha shouted over him, exasperated.

Bruce let the smile linger on his face until he was past the glass doors. No one had to know how close he was to hulking out right now. Stopping only to grab a hoodie, he stepped out into the drizzly New York night.

The rain wasn't helping his heart rate, covering noises and making him paranoid about possible attack. Each step was tense as he thought about what Tony had said. The snide little remark about his wife.

Goddamnit, why did he have to mention Betty?

His fists clenched as he turned into the park and sat down on a hillside to look over the glowing city lights. Methodically, he tore out a blade of grass and ripped it into six perfect pieces, every time repeating his mantra. _I. Am. Not. My. Anger. _Drop the pieces. Another blade of grass. _I. Am. Not. My. Anger._ Repeat.

It wasn't just that he didn't have her anymore. It was that he wouldn't have her ever again or anyone like her and that he didn't deserve anyone like her.

Every night, except when he broke down and took pain medication, he dreamed of her.

And in those dreams, the other guy tore her apart.

Even in his dreams, he didn't deserve her.

His breathing grew more ragged and his movements jerky as he tried to force his mind away from Betty. _Not. My. Anger._

"What do we have here?"

The smooth voice startled Bruce so badly that he jumped up as if electrified, heart pounding, almost hulking out right there and then. If it hadn't been so dark, Loki would have seen the green in Bruce's eyes.

"The Avengers' monster…all alone," Loki smirked, twirling his scepter. He wasn't wearing his Asgardian garb, but a rather normal sweater and jeans. The picture he struck threw Bruce off and he struggled to breathe normally, controlling the other guy inside him, demanding to be let out.

"What do you want?" he asked, settling into a defensive stance. A pointless gesture; if they started fighting he'd hulk out, and that side of him cared nothing for form and structured conflict.

Loki began to pace casually, smiling smugly as he glanced at Bruce. "Oh, I'm just here to talk to you…and destroy you!" He suddenly snapped the tip of the scepter to Bruce's chest.

Bruce had to refrain from rolling his eyes. So dramatic. But then a thought struck him. He pushed it down immediately. God, he was so selfish. But he couldn't help it. He had to ask. "Could you?"

Loki blinked. He'd expected terror. Possibly the showing of the green beast. "What?"

Bruce gently pushed the scepter aside. "Could you? Destroy me?"

Loki stared at him for a second then brought the scepter back again, "If you are questioning my abilities I assure you –"

Bruce whirled away before he broke down and begged Loki to kill him. He breathed slowly, with control. He felt himself shudder. He was such a sick, selfish bastard. He was actually needed right now. He had to live. Who was he to decide to give his life away when others weren't done with him yet? The Avengers needed him.

Loki looked him over, leaning on the staff. He leaned back. "You're pathetic," he scoffed, and Bruce turned back to face him. "A beast, a pet, nothing more. Even now you struggle to hold your true form within you. You're weak."

_He's right,_ said a voice inside him. _They don't need you – you're their go-to guy for brute force only. Stark could probably make a better you._

Loki had a mad glint in his eyes now. The moon on his pale face threw his features into deep shadows, and his voice went down to a whisper. "You, all of you, are so much less than me. I could kill you on the spot."

Bruce dropped to his knees. "Please," his voice choked out. The other guy raged inside him, begging to be let out.

"Are you begging for your life?" Loki smiled, lips curling in a cat's grin. He did so enjoy it when people begged.

"No," Bruce let out, grabbing the end of the scepter and pulling it to the center of his chest. He looked up into Loki's face. The other guy begged to be set free, pounded his fists against the walls of his mind, and suddenly he couldn't stand it, couldn't stand it another minute. "Kill me."

Loki composed himself. This was most unusual. "You seem on the verge of letting go. Why is that? Tell me, perhaps I'll acquiesce." He wasn't in the business of granting boons; he played mind games. He hadn't thought the beast had a mind.

"I need to die," Bruce begged, a sheen of tears on his eyes. "You don't…understand." Underlying his words was the growl of a monster. Here stood the man who could finally kill him. He _needed _it.

"You think you don't deserve to live," Loki stated, half question half wonder. What _was _this?

"I don't deserve anything!" Bruce shouted, his voice echoing over the grass, and the inhumanity was clear. And just like that, his control was gone, and he was changing, and God, it was so painful.

But it stopped.

He opened his eyes, and Loki was staring at him, slack-jawed, the scepter pushing into the spot right above Bruce's heart. The other hand had grabbed a fistful of Bruce's collar.

He had stopped him mid-change. Bruce could feel the twisted muscles, the itching under his skin to continue but most of all the _rage_, "Kill me," he begged, and it wasn't his voice.

Loki could only stare, his mind racing. What was he doing? What could he do?

"Do it!" Bruce shouted and his cry of frustration and anger and need echoed across the city.

And suddenly, Loki knew what he would do.

He pulled Bruce up by his collar in one swift motion and kissed him, surprising the hell out of both of them. He dropped the scepter to grab Bruce's shirt with both hands and kissed him as deeply as he knew how. Bruce's eyes stayed open in shock, but he couldn't pull away.

And then suddenly Loki was gone, letting him drop to his knees. He let go of the grass pieces still clenched in his hand.


End file.
